Growth

Growth

My pothos is planted in a pot Barely big enough but Almost too tall—the tips Of the leaves lace the lip And do not dare overflow.   It sits in the center of a side table. Two lamps tower on either side, A gold-rimmed mirror engulfs the wall Behind the space I had...
Stitches

Stitches

Each word I spoke undid our neatly stitched seam until a gaping hole loomed between us. I could still see beyond but as the days wore on the frayed edges waved­­­ and wisped in my hot wind until all I could catch was a glimpse of the man with whom I had once been one....
The Liturgy of Summer

The Liturgy of Summer

There’s just something about long, hot days pressing into cool, dark mornings. Sleepy heads roll over for just a few more minutes of shut-eye. Our bodies are allowed the slow start that the day brings without having to keep time to the coffee pot chimes, the alarm...